


All You Have to Do is Dream

by ausmac



Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: M/M, Mpreg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:02:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9118804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ausmac/pseuds/ausmac
Summary: Khadgar starts having rather unexpected dreams about a certain Orc warlock that lead him along a very strange path.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lorenerd13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lorenerd13/gifts).



> This was originally started and then withdrawn because I didnt really know where it was going. So I've let my often nutty subconscious take it somewhere completely weird. I hope lorenerd understands.....

 Despite all the power at his disposal, despite his years of wise actions, of being responsible and careful and caring for the world as a whole, some awkward personal things just couldn’t be ignored.  Not entirely anyhow.  And a man’s body just wanted  to do what a man’s body liked to do.  Which didn’t seem to diminish with age.

It wasn’t as if he could talk about it.  Khadgar tried to imagine discussing it with anyone he knew.    The varying reactions of surprise, shock, embarrassment and utter confusion filed in front of his eyes like a scene from a bad melodrama.  Did the Archmage Khadgar just ask me about sex?  Do Archmages even have intercourse?  Do they have the necessary bits or know what to do with them if they do?  Do they know what sex is?  None of them were too far into stupid to be impossible.

And despite whatever personal relief he tried to give himself, it just never seemed to be quite enough.  The pressure began to build up until it seeped into his dreams in ways that went beyond odd and all the way into sort of icky.

The first time he had the dream he was in a room somewhere he didn’t recognise.  Not a lot of detail, just walls and floor and ceiling and a large, comfortable bed.  He was naked on the bed, on his back, hands around his genitals, seeking the familiar release.  Then a door opened and a figure drifted in, all made of smoke and shadow.   Since it was his dream he wasn’t too concerned about it, just continued efficiently doing what he was doing as the shapeless form drifted closer.  It seemed more curious than anything and while he’d never been into exhibitionism, dreaming Khadgar decided that if his subconscious wanted someone to watch him, he wouldn’t argue the point with himself.

In fact, it was rather nice having someone interested enough to want to watch him, and he put on the best performance he could and woke up with the familiar damp patch in his sleeping pants and the morning hardon that had to be attended to.

The days passed and the dreams continued.  The ghostly figure kept on visiting him in his  dreams and he kept on pleasuring himself while that ghostly apparition watched, though it seemed the shape was becoming more distinct, was growing a form.  He could make out legs, arms, a body and head though there was no detail.  And just when he thought there never would be, that it would always be just that amorphous shape, one dreaming night the door opened and Gul’dan slid into the room.

Khad’gar stopped what he was doing.  Just froze.  Because the look on that toothy, tusky, wrinkled face wasn’t angry or threatening or the look of a warlock about to doing some fellish – it was amusement. 

“Well, you can just leave.”  Khadgar cupped his dream genitals awkwardly.  “I’m not having you in here.”

Gul’dan snorted as he stopped at the side of the bed.  “Yes you are.  You’ve been having me in here for days.  You practically invited me in.”  His eyes narrowed in thought.  “In fact you did invite me in.  You must want me rather badly to let me into your subconscious, my oversexed Archmage.”

“Are you trying to tell me,” Khadgar said as he shuffled backwards across the fur-topped bed, “that you are actually HERE,” he tapped his head twice.  “As in, inside my head and not just a dream?”

“Of course I am.  I regularly probe your defences looking for a weakness.  Imagine my surprise,” the Orc said as he slid down onto the mattress, “when not only was the door unlocked, it was totally undefended.”  One clawed green hand slid up Khadgar’s leg and his skin rippled as every hair on his body stood up.  That felt far too real for a dream.

And then the big hand clenched, the claws slicing down into his skin and he yelped at the pain.  The claws were pulled out, ripping tiny pieces of skin and Gul’dan bent to lick at the wounds as his other hand settled over Khadgar’s stomach.  “Hmmm, you taste delicious.  No,” he said, eyes rising to watch Khadgar’s open-mouthed shock, “if you move the other hand might accidentally open you up from navel to groin.  Just lay there like a good Khadgar and behave…appropriately.”

Appropriate behaviour turned out to be a combination of terror and arousal as Gul’dan’s mouth travelled up his thigh to his groin.  The big sinuous tongue lapped at his balls, suckling them like sweets before swirling around his cock.  It was rough, that tongue, like a cat’s, like wet sandpaper that brought him to shuddering, whining hardness. 

At some moment in the proceedings bands appeared around his ankles and wrists, and any magic his unconscious self might wanted to have used was made immediately unavailable.  But magic was the last thing on his mind when that dangerous, sharp-toothed mouth sucked in his cock down to the root and he came so hard every muscle locked up in a way that would have had a waking Khadgar shrieking in pain at the cramping it would have produced.

His hands scrabbled at broad orcish shoulders and he whimpered at the sense of fel swirling around him.  Gul’dan picked him up and held him against a broad, scarred chest and whispered into one ear.  “None of this is real, Khadgar.  But when you wake up, if you want it to be real, come find me.”  That same rough tongue slid over his cheek and mouth and he tasted smoke and ash and the bitter taste of Gul’dan’s magic.

And when he woke in his bed, the scars on his leg had almost healed.

 

The door was still ajar.  That surprised Gul’dan, and he wondered if Khadgar even understood the weakness.  Surely he would not let himself be so vulnerable.  Or perhaps it was a trap.  If so, it was a stupidly risky one.  But it was an opportunity he couldn’t ignore.

He waited until he sensed the mage was deeply asleep, and slid the access wider to allow one of his mages to port him into the human’s location.  He was accompanied by only one other, and they both paused, tensed and alert, as they arrived.  But there was no attack, no sign of magical alarms or automatic defences.  Just a sleeping man sprawled childlike on a bed.

He moved closer to the bed, as quietly as he could, and looked down at the motionless figure, reassessing his decision.  The fel said _kill him while he’s defenceless, he is a danger_.  And he could do that, easily.  They were so fragile, these humans, so soft and vulnerable.  Small, slender, pale skinned and without a hint of claw or fang or tusk.  He made a small gesture and Khadgar’s sleep deepened.  No sound or touch now would wake him until Gul’dan willed it.  He picked up one of the limp hands, holding it in his palm.  Tiny, weak, he could crush every bone if he closed his hand into a fist.  _But such power in this hand, more arcane power than any other mage, perhaps._ It was a power he had no personal access to, and he hungered for it as he did for any power.  To use, to control…to possess.

He laid the hand down and moved closer, sliding Khadgar’s sleeping shirt open, loosening it to the waist.  With his other hand he reached into a pouch on his belt and took an egg-shaped object, pale green and gently pulsing as held it in his palm.  He stroked it with his finger, feeling the not-quite-hard shell.  He spoke to the silent figure behind him.

“Show me, Shaman, where this can be done without damage to him, at the location I have indicated.”

The shaman moved forward to stand next to him, and placed a finger on Khadgar’s left chest below the ribcage.  “Here, Lord.  Shall I make the incision?”

“Yes.  Carefully.  If you injure him…”

The shaman nodded, as he slid the small silver knife from his belt pouch.  “I am a healer, Master, I know what I do.”

Gul’dan grunted and bent forward to watch his work.  The shaman slid the knife into the top layer of skin, parting it and the fatty tissue beneath.  Blood welled out and he whispered an incantation, sealing the vessels.   He angled the blade down, slicing deeper, and spread the flesh apart.  “Here would be appropriate. “  He held out his bloody hand.  “The egg please.”

Gul’dan handed the egg to him and the shaman pushed it slowly in through the opening.  He put the knife away, holding the egg in place and then putting his other hand.  “Give me your hand.  When I say so, trigger the Fel energy into the egg.”

Gul’dan did as directed, and at the shaman’s brief nod, he whispered a spell and fel slid down his hands into the egg.  Even as deeply asleep as Khadgar was, he reacted to the touch of the Fel, moaning and twitching.  The shaman held him in deep sleep as the last of the fel energy bled away. 

“Heal him.  I want no wound of scarring, nothing to show anything was done.”

The shaman set to work, cleaning away the blood, healing and treating the tissue around the egg  in a way that it would not reject the foreign object, would consider it a part of the body not to be countered.  Would, in fact, nurture it and foster its development. The small wound closed and the skin smoothed under his hand and when he had finished and withdrew, there was no mark to show anything had been done.

Gul’dan closed his eyes to sense the egg and sighed, satisfied.  Unable to resist, he bent and stroked the sleeping man’s cheeks.   As he did the shaman spoke quietly.  “May I ask Lord, why you do not just destroy him?  He is very dangerous to our cause.”

Gul’dan let his fingers slide up the warm skin into Khadgar’s hair.  “Kill him?  Yes I could.  But what would be the fun in that?”  He straightened, closed Khadgar’s shirt and stepped back.  “Sleep well, my Khadgar.  Wake normally without dreams and one day in a few months’ time I will come for you, and take you away to safety where you will give birth to our offspring.  He will have your power and abilities, my strength with the Fel.  He will be unstoppable…."

 

The wooden table jumped as Khadgar slammed his fist into it.

“…and this is your third attempt to lead a raiding group into the Citadel.  Third.  And on the last two occasions you have suffered the loss of numerous party members, including two mages.

Cordana couldn’t recall seeing a Death Knight cowed before, but the tall elf was doing a good job of it as he ducked his head.  “Archmage, I am sorry…”

“Do not be sorry – be better!”  Khadgar’s fist impacted on the table again, making the whole group twitch.  “If I see another example of this wilful waste of lives I’ll choose a new champion to lead the raids.  Do you understand me?  Protect my mages!”

The Death Knight nodded, head dipped.  “Yes, I understand.  I WILL do better, my oath on it.”

“Fine.  Get out.  I expect better results tomorrow.”

The group beat a hasty retreat and Khadgar turned, eyes narrowed as he caught sight of Cordana’s eyes.  “You think I was too hard on them?”

“They required guidance, not abuse.  Your actions were…untypical.”

Khadgar made an annoyed sound and walked across to the bureau against the wall.  He uncorked a bottle and poured a glass of wine into a glass.  “”Even my patience has its limits.  You protect me, and do it very well.  Why the fighter classes can’t get it through their thick, armour-covered heads that mages are fragile and need to be shielded is beyond me.”

“Not only mages, Khadgar.  Priests also, I would have thought.”

“Of course.”  He took a deep swig of the wine, half-emptying the glass.  “But priests at least have healing abilities, they can attend to themselves in various ways.  Mages do not; they are entirely centred on delivering magical attacks, and on being protected while they do.  They can hardly stop in a battle and carry out first aid on themselves.”

“Have you noticed,” she said quietly, “how much more easily your temper rises of late?”

He shrugged, carrying the glass to an armchair beside an unlit fire.  “I’m tired.  My patience wears thinner when my body wearies.”  He slumped back, staring past her unfocused, one hand rubbing absently on his lower chest.  “There has been little time to rest lately, which there might be,” he continued, his eyes flaring up, “if people carried out their responsibilities more effectively.”

Cordana made no further comment but left the Archmage to his wine and ruminations.  _I will talk to Jaina,_ she thought as she left the tower, _perhaps another mage can work out what is wrong with the man….._

Khadgar dozed in the chair, head back against the high rest and dreamed.  He was on a wide green plain somewhere that looked a little like Nagrand, but far emptier of large, dangerous life.  He walked through knee-high grass and the air was busy with insects and birds and it energized him.  Laughing, he started to run and a part of his dreaming self noticed his body was free of aches and pains, that he almost floated across the living carpet.  Something soared down to fly alongside him and he saw a large bird, its feathers green, shimmering in the sun, and its face turned towards him, jade sparkling eyes looking into his.

_It feels good to run free, doesn’t it, Khadgar._

He laughed out loud and the bird’s voice was rough and familiar and he thought he should be worried but he wasn’t.  And he could feel the new life inside him, glowing and throbbing with potential though he know what it was, only that it made him feel good.  Strange, but good.

_It’s a long time since you were free to run, to be yourself, to let your mind and body go whichever way you wanted. You must be so tired to the burdens of responsibility.  Of being around people who do not share your vision, who have no affinity with your power.  One day you need to cast them off and come fly with me…_

He woke suddenly and felt himself fall a tiny space into the chair, constrained once more by the weights around him.

 

Khadgar greeted Jaina’s arrival with equal measures of pleasure and suspicion, and although Cordana didn’t respond to his look of query, he suspected the source of the visit.

“Jaina, it’s pleasant to see you.  To what do I owe the pleasure of this visit?”

She smiled at him as she took the other spare chair in his parlour.  “That’s a very formal way of asking.  You owe the pleasure of it to being my friend and me wondering how you are.  I haven’t visited you in ages.” 

“Well, some months at least.  Can I get you something to drink?”

“A cup of tea would be nice.”  She smiled at Cordana.  “Perhaps one of your excellent mint teas with a spoon of honey.”

They sat talking for a time as Jaina sipped her tea and studied her old friend.  He did seem a bit more stretched than usual, but she’d seen him in far worse shape and he’d still managed to be the same Khadgar she’d known for decades.  But there was something not quite right about him, a sense of wrong that she couldn’t put her finger on.  It wasn’t simply that he reacted more sharply to perceived slights or disagreements than before, though there was that.  It was something else, a magical discordance about him that she’d never sensed in Khadgar before. 

The fact that he also consumed an entire plate of nearly-raw streak topped with honey and pickled fish only added to her puzzlement.  Along with the fact that he didn’t throw up immediately afterwards….

She took her leave after an hour’s conversation and went with Cordana to make her way outside.  They stood on the edge of the tower’s hilltop as she pulled on her gloves and collected her flying mount.  “It was wise to call me, Cordana, although I don’t know what it’s achieved.”

“You sensed something, didn’t you.”  Cordana’s tone was concerned and Jaina sighed.

“I sensed something, I’m just not sure what it is.  If I didn’t know better, I’d say that Khadgar had been touched by something, some power or energy.  There was an odd echo from him, as if I was sensing two life energies rather than one.”  She blinked, paused.  “And there was something else, a trace of energy a little like the Fel.”

Cordana straightened abruptly.  “The Fel!  But..but how is that possible?  He would know, we would all know.  The Fel isn’t something insubstantial.”

“I may be wrong but it’s a discordant sense of power, and there aren’t many of those.”  Jaina pulled herself up onto the gryphon.  “I’m going to Dalaran to discuss it with some of the others.  Keep an eye on him and contact me at once if you see any further worrying changes.”

 

_“You’d like to know what it’s like to have sex with an orc, wouldn’t you, Khadgar?”_

_He shook his head, trying to back away from the blunt finger stroking his leg.  “Not.  Haven’t.”_

_Gul’dan’s smile widened as he reached out to grab the leg.  “You can’t lie to me in a dream.  You’re curious about it.  About how big it is.  About whether or not you can take it into your body.  About how good it would feel.  If it would…hurt.”  He bent closer, his other hand sliding up inside Khadgar’s shirt, stroking his chest.  “ Important things can be difficult.  Having me inside you would be important so yes, there would be pain, somewhere and sometime.  But it would be a good pain and you’d welcome it eventually.”  The fingers of that large hand continued to stroke him, just below his heart, covetous and delicate.  “Joining with me would be….._

“Khadgar!  Are you awake?”

He snarled as the dream slid away.  “Yes!  Yes, I am now, thanks to you!”

Cordana blinked and backed away in the face of his anger.  “I apologise.  I thought I heard you speaking, and assumed you were awake.”  She stopped just inside the room, arms folded behind her back.  “You have been sleeping a lot lately, much more than you used to.  Are you ill in some way that requires extra sleep?  I ask this not to pry but because I am charged with your welfare.”

He sat up, wiping his eyes clear of sleep grit.  “No, I’m fine.  In fact, I don’t believe I’ve ever felt better.  I guess I’m just catching up on lots of nights of little or no sleep.”  He saw her honest concern and smiled and she hesitated, then walked forward and went down onto one knee next to him.

“You know that you wellbeing is not just my duty.  It is my personal charge.  You are important, not only to the cause, but to me.  I would do whatever was needed in your service.”

He reached out to lay one hand on her shoulder.  “Would you?  That’s gratifying to hear.”  He squeezed the strong shoulder briefly and sat back.  “Loyalty means a great deal to me and I share your sentiments.  Your life is also of value to me.  I hope I will always be able to rely on you, no matter where I find myself having to go.”

“Of course.  I would follow you wherever you needed to travel.”  She stood and stepped back.  “I am a Warden, we relish challenge and you have certainly proven to be one.  You have a habit of putting yourself in danger.  While I respect your courage, I will do my utmost to preserve your life, no matter where it may lead me.”  She nodded a brief salute and turned to leave.

As he stood to dress for the day, the thought of Cordana’s words warmed him.  Loyalty was special, something to be fostered and recognised.  _I would follow you wherever you needed to travel._   And she’d meant it, too, he could tell that much.  But she was right in a way: he was sleeping more than he could remember and he knew he was actively dreaming.  He couldn’t always remember them; he knew he did in the moments of waking but the memory faded almost immediately.  All he knew was that the dreams were satisfying.  How they were he wasn’t sure, but they certainly weren’t nightmares.  In fact, he waited for them, anticipated them when he fell asleep.

He noticed that his pants seemed tighter and his belts wouldn’t do up as they normally did.  He studied his belly and felt the rounded swelling there.  _That’s odd.  I’ve never put on weight before…_   He ran his hand over it, eyes narrowed at the sudden sense of comfort that gave him.  _Well, I feel fine, I’ll just cut back on my sugared cupcakes…_

Dressed and ready for the day, Khadgar made he was downstairs to his small living area where a meal had already been set out for him; Cordana liked to mother him that way and always ensured his favourite foods were set out to tempt him.  As he tucked into his honey-sweetened porridge he read through his morning mail.  One of them was very interesting; a scrawled and unsigned scouting report regarding rumours of Gul’dan being seen in the Everbloom Wilds.  What he would be doing there was a puzzle but it was certainly worth investigating.  Cordana wandered in to join him and he showed her the report as he drank down his tea.  “What do you make of that?”

She held up the report, squinting at the writing.  “This thing is badly written, I can’t make out any signature.  These scouts need to learn to submit their reports legibly.”  She laid it down and poured a cup for herself.  “Do you wish to assign someone to check it out?”

“Hmmm, no.  I might fly over and look into it myself.”  He watched her over the edge of the cup, waiting for the expected response.  She didn’t disappoint.

“By yourself!  Absolutely not!”

He smiled and wiped his mouth with a cloth.  “Fine.  You come along with me.  If I can’t depend on one of the greatest living Warders to protect me, who can I rely on?”

She huffed in a deep annoyed breath.  “I knew I’d regret saying those things.  Very well, if you must go, I will naturally accompany you.  But please fly by normal methods, not ravenform.  It’s difficult enough to keep track of you without having to locate a small bird amongst all that greenery.”

She was still muttering complaints when he climbed onto the gryphon in front of her but she held him tightly as the bird launched itself skywards.

 

It was a trap and neither of them realised it until it was too late.  When they landed hidden rogues sapped them both and they were dragged away to a cave on the cliff overlooking the ocean.  Cordana had a great deal to say when she recovered to find herself bound and her powers restrained – loudly, and frequently, and being shushed by Gul’dan only made the complaints more personally offensive.

Khadgar was too busy feeling stupid to offer any insults of his own, but the orc warlock could see his flushed annoyance anyhow.  “Yes, Khadgar, very foolish of you not to check first.  What were you thinking?”

“Not enough, obviously.”

He chuckled, and turned away towards Cordana.  “Cordana Felsong.  Could you pause in your abusive insults for just a moment, I have something important to ask you.”

Her narrowed eyes glared.  “Certainly.  Make it quick, I have a few anatomical references to use yet.”

“I shall.  I have an offer for you to consider.  How much value do you place on Khadgar’s life?”

“That is a stupid question.”

“Perhaps.”  He smiled, tusks sliding over his lips.  “The offer is this – take the Fel, or I’ll kill him.  Slowly, in front of you.”

Khadgar started to shout an order but was gagged before he could do more than gurgle.  Gul’dan stepped next to him, laying a hand on his head.  “Well, Cordana?  Your decision, please.”

She convulsed in the bindings, throwing herself about fighting them and cursing him.  He shook his head and twitched his fingers, sending a wave of darkness down into Khadgar’s body.  He screamed under the gag and shuddered and she stilled.

“Stop!  Don’t.  I’ll do it, don’t kill him!”

Gul’dan lifted his hand and Khadgar sagged backwards.  “Very good.”  He walked towards her and had the binding removed, stripping away her armour at the same time so that she stood constrained and controlled in a simple undershift.  “Hear me now.  If you try to attack me or any of the others here…”

“If you’re such an all-powerful, warlock, why not just force it onto me?”

“I could, but you’d be a mindless slave.  I prefer a willing, obedient and intelligent servant.  Do you understand?”

“Yes, I do understand.”  Her eyes were wide in a face paled by tightly controlled anxiety.  “My service is to him, always.  I do what I must to protect him.”

“And you will continue to do that.”  He reached out a large hand and rested it on her chest.  “Open yourself to me, Warden.  Release your defences.”

She straightened, her eyes turned towards Khadgar’s watching eyes and nodded.  Her body sagged, then shuddered as Gul’dan poured Fel into it.  She keened as it invaded her heart and mind, smothering her, twisting her perceptions and turning her away from the Light.

“Excellent. Yes, Cordana, reach for the power I give you.  No more weakling Light, you will command the forces of Death and destruction.  You will protect your Archmage, and you serve us both.”

Khadgar’s perceptions ran deeper than most and he could sense the changes in Cordana that went beyond the mere physical.  Her eyes glowed green and her skin was grey, bleached of the Light’s glow.  Her long silver-white hair had come loose from its tie and hung down over her shoulders, halfway down her back.  But beyond that, he saw the changes within.  She glowed with Fel energy, her gaze switching from Gul’dan to him, feral-bright, and she was poised and confident in her new power.  Her dark new power.  And when she smiled at him it was unnerving because she’d rarely  smiled at him before, and certainly never in that proprietary way.

Her own bindings slid away and she moved towards him, laying a hand on his chest.  “I can feel it now, Gul’dan.  What have you done to him, infected him?”

“Not an infection, my dear, a gift.”  He waved her aside and pulled Khadgar to him, lifting him closer, nuzzling his throat despite Khadgar’s half-hearted squirming.   He ran one large hand over Khadgar’s swollen stomach.  “Almost time.  I’ve gathered you in to me at just the right moment.”  His fingers slid under Khadgar’s shirt and down the curve of his stomach.  “Yes, little one, it will soon be time to emerge and greet us.”

He smiled as the light of understanding blossomed madly in Khadgar’s eyes.  “Yes, you carry my son in your belly.  Our son.   You’ll give birth soon to the future ruler of this world.”  And he laughed at the horror dawning on the mage’s face.

 

He was made incapable of exercising his power by the simple measure of making him dumb.  He couldn’t speak, couldn’t voice the spells that could get him away.  He was trapped, with the one person he’d thought he could trust turned from his guardian to his jailor. 

Oh, Cordana still cared for him – she saw to his every need, stayed with him to keep him company, was constantly checking his health and the health of the impossible child he carried.  When he’d gestured to it and looked at Gul’dan with a vast uncertainty, the warlock had grinned.  “How does it come out?”

He’d nodded, worried and Gul’dan gave a short laugh.  “All in good time. For now, worry about staying healthy and keeping both you and our child safe.”

Days turned to weeks, he grew heavier, larger, more unwieldy.   He began to realise just how uncomfortable being pregnant was, and learned a new respect for women who bore it with such fortitude.  His back ached constantly, his bladder was a demanding master and his desire for the bizarre foods continued.  As well,  his innards hurt from the unnatural squashing – he wondered if he’d survive this birth but Gul’dan had promised him that he would.  “I want you alive,” he’d said one day while smoothing oils across Khadgar’s swollen belly.  “You are a formidable mage and you must teach our child to use his powers.  Just as I will.”  His oiled hand had slid down to Khadgar’s groin, caressing him and bringing him to an unexpectedly pleasant arousal.  That just didn’t seem right – captured, silenced, with a taste for nearly raw meat dipped in ice cream, made pregnant and still being turned on by Gul’dan’s touch.  But his scowl just made the warlock chuckle as he limped away.

_Bastard._

Eventually Gul’dan decided that he needed to be able to speak, to tell him if there was an issue with the child, and the silencing magic was removed.  He had studs placed in Khadgar’s ears that produced a stream of power between them through the mage’s brain, that would disrupt any attempt at casting.  They also looked good, Gul’dan informed him.  “The more piercings, the better,” he’d said, with that Orcish attitude towards such things.  On the whole, Khadgar thought he looked rather silly with earrings.

And all through the uncomfortable – and he had to admit, very  disturbing – weeks that followed, Cordana was with him constantly.  When the days in Gul’dan’s Tanaan hideout become stiflingly hot, he would lay on a couch in just a shirt and underwear, and she would bathe him, would run damp clothes over his swollen legs and wash the sweat away from his face.  Watching her, Khadgar felt intensely guilty.

“I’m so sorry,” he’d said one day as he watched her cleaning him with her usual intense and organised attention.  “It’s my fault this has happened to you.”

She glanced up at him, her fel-green eyes sparkling  “You did not.  I chose the gift.”

“Gift?  A curse, surely.”

And because she didn’t wear her armour in his presence, he could see her twisted smile.  “It rather depends on how you view it.  I’m more powerful now than I ever was.  And I will choose what I do with this power.  Gul’dan is my master, yes, but even he …”

“Even he what, my dear?”

She frozen in mid-word as Gul’dan limped into the room.  “You were about to question my command?  I’d be careful about such thoughts if I were you, my ex-Warden.  Or should I say, my servant.”  And he lifted one hand and wreathed her in green flame so that she screamed from the pain.  Khadgar struggled upright, surging to his feet – and promptly fell over as his balance shifted.  The cry of pain he made as he hit the floor caught both their attentions.

Gul’dan's hands dropped and he snarled.  “Idiot!”  He turned his angry green eyes to Cordana, still struggling to stand.  “Pick him up, you fool.  If our child is harmed, I’ll have your guts pulled out through your nostrils while you still live!”

Struggling for breath, wheezing in pain, Cordana helped Khadgar to his feet, her hands stroking over his stomach.  “Are you…is he…?”

Khadgar settled down onto the couch.  “No, both of us are fine.  I just stumbled.”  He glared at Gul’dan, who snorted and left the room, muttering to himself.  “And he is just a nasty, bad-tempered Orc who needs **to learn some restraint**!”  The muttering increased in volume as Gul’dan disappeared from view.

Sleeping wasn’t easy.  Lying on his back, the weight pressed down on his organs and made any kind of rest impossible.  He couldn’t sleep on his stomach, of course, so that left only his side to lie on.  Khadgar would curl up, trying to find a comfortable angle but even that became increasingly difficult.  Gul’dan slept on a separate couch, to be nearby in case of problems, and after a night of groaning, wriggling and swearing, he finally rose and shuffled across to glare down at Khadgar. 

“You are keeping me awake!”

Khadgar glared up at him, flushed and frustrated.  “Oh, I am SO sorry.  Am I?  What a shame!  Perhaps you should consider meditation.  Or a drug of some sort.  Or perhaps running headfirst into a wall to knock yourself out.  That would work!”

That got him an amused grunt, and the warlock slid down onto the bed next to him, and pulled him up onto his lap.  “You are behaving like a child, and you the greatest living mage.  Be still, nuisance!”  He lay Khadgar across his lap, his head in the crook of his arm, his legs over the other arm.  Fel energy drifted across him, surprisingly gentle, to cushion and lift him, easing the tension of muscle and flesh.  He found himself drifting asleep, and opened one eye.

“Is that stuff…likely to hurt the child?”

“Don’t be foolish, as if I would risk him.  He will thrive on it.  Now relax and be quiet.  You give me a headache, foolish human…”

And despite how strange it was, how utterly bizarre a moment in his increasingly bizarre life, Khadgar fell asleep in Gul’dan’s arms, held comfortably by an Orc warlock’s power.  He only hoped, as he drifted to sleep, that his bladder gave out at some stage, because that would be a lesson for him in making life difficult for a pregnant mage…

 

The time came at last when Khadgar’s body could adapt no further.  He was unable to walk and was in constant pain that Gul’dan’s healers could barely control.  Gul’dan discussed the timing with them and huffed in annoyance.

“He should there another month.  It may be too soon..”

“I.  Don’t.  Care!”  Khadgar swore a loud and foul oath in demonic that even Gul’dan had never heard.  “Get this thing OUT OF ME Now!”

“Very well, I suppose waiting will achieve nothing.  Let us begin.”

“Finally!  You are a total….”

“Yes, yes, don’t use that word again, you don’t even know what it means,” Gul’dan said, in a tone meant to be soothing.  “It’s probably something that will bring forth a great demon from the nether if said correctly, so watch your language.”  He hummed and ha’d as the healers carefully carried Khadgar into his bed chamber and laid him, on his back, on top of the bed.    He was stripped and made comfortable – as comfortable as someone very large and scared two ways into the next day could be.

“You haven’t told me,” he said, voice quivering, “how this is done.  Do you…cut…me..open?”

“Khadgar!  What a painful notion.  I’m proud of you for thinking that way.”  Gul’dan patted his stomach carefully.  “But no, no cutting.  Our child will be removed by a form of magic translocation.  The specialised umbilical will be absorbed back into you the moment the child is removed.  You will be as you were before – eventually.”

“Eventually!”  Khadgar whined.  “What does that…”  And his fell backwards as he went instantly unconscious.  Gul’dan sighed.

“Thank Sargerasas’ balls for that.”  He nodded to the healer who’d pushed Khadgar asleep.  ‘Well done.  Now keep him there, but make sure you monitor his condition.”

Two mages stood on either side of the bed and, at Gul’dan’s signal, began a complex dual incantation.  Arcane power swirled in the air above the bed, formed into a tiny maelstrom of sparking energy that slid downwards into Khadgar.  Gul’dan walked back and forth as the incantation grew in power, muttering and pacing.

“This is taking too long, what in the name of all things Dark are you doing that takes so long?”

The mages ignored him as the air swirled and hissed.  It seemed as if something had gone wrong and just when the warlock was starting to panic there was a loud SNAP of displaced air and a small shape appeared above Khadgar’s stomach.  A healer reached forward and grabbed the baby, gestured and spoke a phrase and the baby twitched, kicked and howled.

Gul’dan staggered around and held out his hand and the kicking, complaining infant was put into his grasp.  He looked down at it in amazement.  That it was an orc child was unmistakeable, but he could also see the signs of his joint parentage.  The skin tone was finer, and although Fel had infused it  during its creation, its colouration was closer to greenish gold than the true green of Fel.  Soft downy hair covered its head and its eyes were brown, though rimmed with a strip of emerald.  It was also smaller than a normal orc newborn, with diminutive hands and feet and finer bones.  He grinned and stroked a big finger over its tiny stomach.

“You are a fine, if ugly boy.  I will call you Gul’gar.” 

He heard a groan and turned to see a bleary-eyed Khadgar looking up at him.  “You will not!  That’s an awful name!  Sounds like a throat infection.”

“Fine, do you have a better one?”

“How about…Khadan.”  And he smiled tiredly as the now-swaddled infant was placed on his chest.  “Poor little thing.  Your orcfather wants to give you a grubby name because he has no imagination.  People will laugh at you.”

“Fine, fine, Khadan it is.”  Gul’dan sat on the bed and watched his son in his … what…mate?...perhaps that worked.  He watched his mate holding his son.  “He is small, but he will grow.”  And he stroked the perfect legs hidden within the swaddling cloth.  “As long as the world does not view him as an aberration to be destroyed.”

Khadgar stroked the soft head and snorted.  “Over your twisted, evil and cunning dead body.”

Gul’dan could only grunt in agreement.

 


End file.
